


Scooby Doo Meets Death Note

by silvaaeterna



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga), Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, F/M, Humor, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvaaeterna/pseuds/silvaaeterna
Summary: L already has his hands full trying to catch the infamous Kira, and now there's a rogue shinigami scaring the citizens of Tokyo. Supernatural monsters aren't really L's forte, so it's time to call in the experts - the Scooby Doo gang!





	1. A Groovy Twist

**Author's Note:**

> A bit o' background: This story started back in 2008 on FFnet, but I only got to the halfway point and never finished it. I'm finally doing that now. Everything through Ch. 8 is from 2008; Ch. 9 onward is all new stuff.
> 
> It may take me a while to get all the chapters up - as of now there are 11 chapters on FFnet, so feel free to hop over there in the meantime. The story text will be unchanged (even if I do dislike my old writing style in places), but I'll be trimming down the author notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically a prologue, because as ridiculous as this story is, it's also ridiculously serious (and wordy as heck), because hey, it's still Death Note. We're talking ensemble cast and crack that grew a plot here, people. Enjoy!

L was frustrated.

It felt as if the Kira investigation was coming to a standstill. There was no solid evidence to be found, and his sole suspect gave him almost nothing to go on. The only reason he still felt the need to further investigate Light Yagami was his glaring innocence itself. The boy's record was so clean, the righteous morals inherited from his police chief father ingrained so deeply into his psyche, his academic standing so high, his good looks and social charm – everything about him was so perfect, so _maddeningly_ perfect.

L calculated a five percent chance that his remaining suspicions were just a stubborn result of jealousy; yes, he was the world's three greatest detectives in one body, but he was a far cry from perfect. Yagami – he was on a different level altogether from L, and yet was one of the only people he'd ever met that could challenge his intellect. There was circumstantial evidence that pointed to Light being Kira, but that same evidence pointed equally to every member of the families Raye Penbar had investigated. It was only L's personal suspicions that kept the spotlight on the Yagami boy, but with his father on the investigation team, he couldn't pursue him outright without a more concrete lead. Soichiro's protests of his family's innocence had already forced L to remove the cameras and bugs – not that they had actually revealed anything, but L would have preferred to leave them in place much longer to be sure.

Thus, L was forced to gather evidence on Light in a more active way than he was used to – not only had he enrolled at the same college, but today he had offered Light a place on the task force. L hoped this would placate, perhaps even please, his proud and upstanding father while allowing him to keep close surveillance on his suspect. After all, it had been four months since Kira's arrival, and this was his only lead – even if it did hinge on some admittedly baseless suspicions.

Grasping the mug's handle with just his thumb and index finger, L took a long sip of his sugary coffee, quickly figuring up the likelihood of Light, the college student and son of a policeman, agreeing to join the investigation against the many different arguments he could use to persuade him. How would that likelihood be affected if he were also Kira..?

“So, do you have any proof, Ryuuga?”

L blinked slowly. Light, sitting across the table from him, seemed more than a bit perturbed by the wide-eyed blank stare that L had been giving him these past few minutes. L removed the mug from his lips, only to replace it with the thumb of his free hand as he sat the coffee back down.

“Proof of what, Yagami-kun?” L lightly chewed his thumbnail, hoping to replace the lingering taste of the lukewarm coffee. The last few sugars he'd added to it had not fully melted – the sweet sludge these had created was the only thing that had made that long sip palatable.

“Are you even paying attention to your own interrogation? I asked you if you've got any proof that you yourself are not Kira, because if you don't, there's no reason I should trust your offer to let me join the team,” Light continued, scowling ever so slightly. “Of course, if you can prove that you really _are_ L, that would be proof enough that you're _not_ Kira.”

L removed the thumb from his mouth, now listening more intently.

“I need to be able to trust you, and the only way to do that would be for someone I already trust, such as my father or another officer involved in the investigation, to confirm for me that you are L. If you refuse me that much, the deal is off,” Light firmly declared. L fought to keep from smirking; maybe his suspicions hadn't been so baseless.

“You know, I don't recall saying that you couldn't meet others from the team, Yagami-kun.” Yes, he could feel it – that tiny twitch at the corners of his mouth. The look of shock on Light's face, which he undoubtedly thought to be well-hidden, was just delightful. Likelihood of Light being Kira was now... seven percent. “I am currently working alongside your father on the investigation. If I brought you to headquarters and allowed him to confirm my identity, would that be convincing enough of my invitation's sincerity?”

Light was speechless, dumbfounded. It was indeed a golden moment as L childishly indulged in his small victory, but this moment was ended all too abruptly as a squealing, high-pitched whine filled the little cafe.

“ _Li-ight_!”

L fought the instinct to shove his fingers into his ears, forcing himself to keep his hands on his bent-up knees and his eyes as blank as ever. The only sign of his discomfort was the slightly more vigorous twitching of his bare toes against the wooden seat of the chair.

“Over here, Misa,” Light apathetically called out, waving his arm in the air. He didn't bother to turn around to face his mysterious screeching guest – L wondered briefly if her voice was bothering him as well.

A second later, a bouncing blonde in a short-cut black dress appeared behind Light's chair. Her face seemed familiar somehow, but L couldn't place it. He instead amused himself by counting all the various Gothic-style accessories adorning her: necklaces, bracelets, skull barrettes in her hair..

“Light,” she whined, wrapping her arms around his neck, “you said you would call Misa today!”

“Misa, it's barely past lunch time. There's still plenty of today left,” Light explained, an uneasy grin plastered on his face. For only the second time in the last half-hour, L blinked. The main pitfall of being popular with everyone, he supposed, was being popular with those one didn't necessarily like. He watched with interest as the girl – she certainly looked like just a girl, perhaps 15 or 16, although being in this cafe on a college campus seemed to suggest she was older, he reasoned – as this _woman_ happily plopped down in Light's lap.

“Yeah, but Light-kun obviously has time now, and he's spending it with a guy instead of calling his girlfriend,” she said, an exaggerated pout evident on her dark red lips. For the first time, she looked over at L. “Although,” she seemed to ponder, “he is a pretty unique-looking guy.”

L's eyes widened ever so slightly. He _did_ know that face!

“I'm Light's girlfriend, Misa Amane. Nice to meet you!” she said cheerily, her delicate hand giving him a casual wave.

“Ryuuga Hideki,” L replied simply, popping his thumb back into his mouth again.

“Like the pop idol? That's so cool!” L couldn't help noticing the bored, perhaps annoyed look on Light's face. Such a girlfriend as her, and he didn't even seem interested at all. Life could be so unfair...

“I envy you, Yagami-kun,” L said quietly. Light looked back at him with disbelief, and something else. Was there something about this relationship that he hadn't wanted L to know about? Those pesky corners of L's mouth finally were freed from his tight mental control, creating an almost creepy sort of smile around his thumb. “You're really dating _the_ Misa-Misa?” he continued, eyes darting between the grinning blonde and the dumbfounded Light.

“Oh wow, I guess I'm becoming a real household name!” Misa gushed.

“Yes, well,” Light began, shifting slightly beneath the model's weight, “we met at a party a few nights ago. Some friends from class invited me. Of course I didn't realize it was such a big event that even a famous model would be there.” That fake grin had returned to his face. Light was uncomfortable, no question.

“It was love at first sight, right Light-kun?” Misa interrupted.

“Right,” Light uneasily agreed. L removed the thumb from his mouth again and began to idly stir the now cold coffee, although he had no intention of finishing it. Light was popular enough with women – he'd been seen casually dating several since enrolling at the college – so why was he staying in a relationship with Misa, whom he obviously did not like very much? He didn't seem to care about her fame, but he also didn't seem to mind lying to her when he agreed to her small declaration of love, so why bother keeping up such appearances unless there was something more to it?

For all this obvious manipulation, the likelihood of Light being Kira rose to nine percent.

“Oh, Light-kun, have you seen the news today?” Misa suddenly asked.

“No, why?” he answered apathetically.

“It turns out that Kira is actually a rogue shinigami! This big flying monster showed up in Aoyama and started terrorizing people, and a bunch of people who got too close to it had heart attacks and died, right there!”

For once in his life, L sat straight up. Dropping his stirring spoon, he slammed his hands down on the table.

“When did this happen? How many people died?” he asked frantically, wide eyes boring into the shocked Misa.

“It was only a little while ago, I heard it on the radio on the way here!”

“Exactly how long ago?” L demanded.

“I.. I don't know, really. Maybe an hour?” Misa stammered, a bit taken aback by the quiet and unkempt man's sudden outbursts. L began to slouch slightly again.

“Yagami-kun,” he began slowly, pondering, “did you in fact go to class before meeting me here?” Light just stared at the detective incredulously.

“Come on, Ryuuga,” he finally said, with a slight chuckle, “I know I'm a suspect and all, but I'm no shinigami, as you can plainly see. Besides, it was probably just a prank or something.”

“But they said that people died all around where the shinigami had been! He flew around in circles, and a minute or so after he had passed, people just fell over dead!” Misa protested.

“Hush, Misa, darling,” Light said cheerfully, patting her head like a child. “It's probably just one of those stupid radio dramas – some station is playing a prank on the whole city by spreading rumors like that.”

Light had a point. After all, if this had been a real event, surely Watari would have contacted him about it by now. Perhaps it was just some sort of prank. L returned to his former level of slouching, his wide eyes becoming dull again. Never any real leads...

_Eru netsu masani desu paireetsu!_

All three of them jumped slightly at the sudden burst of music.

_Aganau houritsu geemu..._

Suddenly whipped back into reality, L reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the offending cell phone.

_Zetsubou za birii iza rinri  
Saa tomerarenai eraser rain!_

“Cool ringtone,” Misa commented, her cheerful voice quiet for once.

He flipped it open, holding it between just two fingers, and gingerly pressed the “Talk” button.

“Yes, Watari?” he casually answered. Light and Misa could only hear a garbled voice on the other end, but whatever they were saying, it seemed urgent. Light watched carefully as L's eyes widened.

“I understand. We are in the cafe at the university, meet us out front,” L said quickly before snapping the phone shut.

“Us?” Light repeated softly. L chose to ignore him for the moment, looking toward Misa again as he rose from his seat.

“I'm terribly sorry, Amane-san, but Light and I need to leave immediately,” he told her politely.

“Um, okay,” she reluctantly agreed, standing up as well. She looked back toward Light, who was still seated and looking a bit confused. “Call me later, Light-kun?” she whined, although more softly now.

“Of course, Misa,” he quickly replied. Despite their hurry, it seemed to L that brushing her off like that was odd for someone in love. Something was definitely suspicious about the whole thing, he decided as he reluctantly stuffed his sock-less feet back into his shoes.

“Okay, bye bye Light-kun!” Misa chimed, waving as she headed out of the cafe. Only then did Light rise from his seat.

“So, what's going on? And what does it have to do with me?” Light asked, once he was sure Misa was gone. L simply shuffled toward the door, motioning for him to follow.

“It seems,” said L as they reached the outside, “that the shinigami incident was no prank, after all.” Light stared back at him, wide-eyed. L gave a strangely satisfied smirk. “What a convenient time for you to join the task force, Yagami-kun.”

* * *

“Pretty tight security for a hotel,” Light muttered. He had observed Watari undergo a fingerprint and retina scan as they drove into the underground garage. Even after this, both L and Watari had gone through another checkpoint within the building. Light himself had been registered in their security database, had his retinas and all ten fingerprints scanned in, and even had a three-dimensional computer model of his face created as back-up. They were finally on their way to headquarters, but Light was sure he would have gotten lost in the dimly lit, unremarkable halls without his enigmatic companion leading the way.

“Its construction was finished just last week,” L explained, not bothering to turn around to face him. “This entire building is our headquarters, although most of the floors are, indeed, populated by hotel-like rooms.”

“What's the point of that?” Light asked. “It's not as if anyone off the street can waltz in and see whether this is a real hotel or not.”

“Those with families, like your father, return home at night. The rest of us live here, in those rooms,” L replied, turning his head just far enough to meet Light's eyes, “as will you, Yagami-kun.”

“You mean to say I'm forbidden from going home to see my family?” Light demanded, his eyes aglow with all the fire of the dedicated son that Soichiro Yagami had made him out to be. L frowned and again faced away from the boy. It was either another facet of his perfection, or an extremely corny act.

“You are not merely another investigator, you are also a suspect. You cannot expect equal treatment,” L stated, his voice now a cold monotone. The finality of his voice was enough to convince Light to finally shut up. Watari, who walked along behind him, continued to quietly observe.

After some silent minutes more, there was finally a break in the dark, windowless walls – a large set of double doors, which Light could only hope was finally headquarters.

“Here we are,” L quietly commented, as if answering Light's own thoughts. He opened the door maddeningly slowly for Light's tastes, revealing, at last, the first truly well-lit room in this whole depressing building. An entire wall was covered with huge monitors, an odd glass staircase sat nearby, and couches and coffee tables were strewn all about. The team members, whom Light recognized from the minor cases he had helped with in the past, were gathered around a large table covered with laptops and stacks of paper. They rose from their seats as the three entered. No one bothered with any actual introductions.

“So you've agreed to join us, Light!” Soichiro exclaimed with a proud smile as he approached his son. The middle-aged police chief, his hair already going grey, seemed quite pleased with this – after all, not only was it an opportunity to show off his son's skill, but also to finally rid L of his ridiculous suspicions of him being Kira.

“Please confirm my identity for him, Yagami-san,” L said quickly, cutting off any response Light might have made. “He has agreed to join only on condition of trust.”

“Oh, of course,” the elder Yagami replied, somewhat taken aback by L's curtness. “Light, this man is, in fact, L, but for security reasons, we refer to him here only as Ryuuzaki.”

“Proof enough for you, Yagami-kun?” L asked, an almost annoyed stare fixed on Light's face.

“Yes, thank you,” Light answered, uncertain as he tried to read the eccentric detective's expression. Without another word, L shuffled over to the large desk in front of the wall of monitors and sat in his strange, hunched squat on a wheeled office chair. How he managed such a feat, Light couldn't imagine. L immediately began to type something, and soon multiple news shows were playing on the large monitors, all of them covering the same story – the shinigami in Aoyama.

“Aizawa-san,” L said suddenly, not taking his large black eyes off the monitors, “please brief Yagami-kun on all information we have on the Kira case so far.”

“Right,” said Aizawa, still standing with the rest of the team around the work area. Whether they had been waiting for some sort of introductions or just for orders, even they did not know, but the tense feeling that surrounded the room kept them from relaxing. Wordlessly, Aizawa led the much shorter Light to a far corner of the room, carrying with him a short stack of papers and laptop.

“The rest of you,” L continued, “I want every scrap of information to be found on this Aoyama incident, and the exact times of death for every criminal killed by Kira today.”

“Already got it, Ryuuzaki!” Matsuda exclaimed, half-jogging over to L with his own laptop in tow. L quickly looked over the information they had gathered, his slight scowl deepening into a frown.

It made no sense at all. Kira's judgements for the day seemed to center around the time of the shinigami's appearance, but at the same time, the people around the shinigami had been killed. Why these innocent bystanders? And more importantly, why was Kira, a mass murderer who seemed to view himself as righteous, as a god ridding the world of evil, resorting to such cheap theatrics? A cheesy monster costume to scare the very people who already lived in fear of his “divine” judgement? Some kind of taunt to L himself, or even retribution, punishing the innocent people of Japan for his discovery of Kira's location?

Or suppose, although he paled just thinking about it, the shinigami was _real_?

Matsuda watched nervously as L's unblinking eyes pored quickly over the data he and the other team members had spent most of the afternoon gathering. He certainly thought L's mannerisms were strange, as did everyone else, but the absence of them seemed almost foreboding. L's long fingers flew over the flat keys instead of being chewed on, and for once there were no cakes or fruits by his side, though he didn't seem to miss them at the moment. Watari seemed to have noticed this as well, as he continued to stay by L's side – maybe he, too, was wondering when a request for tea or sweets would come.

“So, what do you make of it?” Matsuda asked, his normally cheery manner rather muted now. L finally blinked; the rookie cop briefly thought that perhaps his words had shaken L from a trance.

L sat back, finally taking his eyes off the laptop, and sighed almost forlornly. Matsuda raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing. Watari continued to patiently wait.

“This is,” L said softly, “unfamiliar territory.” He brought a hand to his forehead, holding it briefly there before running it through his messy ebony locks. His hand fell back to its familiar position on his knee, his hair now even more wild-looking than before. “Kira, an apparently psychic killer, is strange enough, but now this...”

Matsuda uncertainly shifted from foot to foot, waiting, like Watari, to see just what the brilliant man would do with this odd new development in the case. He sighed a little to himself as he realized yet again what a small part he seemed to have in all this, especially compared to L, who he thought must be a couple of years younger than himself.

Suddenly, L leaned forward again in his usual hunch, his eyes alight with inspiration. Matsuda stiffened, half-expecting the detective to simply request that he get him some coffee. Instead, he surprised him by quickly spinning around in his chair to face the rest of the team.

“Everyone!” L exclaimed, a giddy glint in his black eyes, “I'm afraid I haven't the expertise to deal with this shinigami business, but I know someone who does. In short, I'm calling in reinforcements.” From across the room, Soichiro, Mogi, Aizawa and Light stared on, more than shocked to hear such a concession from the world-renowned L. Watari and Matsuda stood still on either side of him, Matsuda's face matching the others', but Watari's as calm as ever. An odd smile crept its way across L's face as he turned to face his old patron.

“Watari,” he said firmly, “please contact V.” L turned back to face the team as Watari busily typed something into one of the computers.

“V?” Aizawa ventured.

“Yes,” L nodded, “V is the head of an expert team of American detectives. They specialize in crimes involving paranormal events and supernatural creatures – ghosts, monsters, what have you.”

“If that's the case,” Aizawa challenged, an incredulous look in his eyes, “why didn't we call on these people when we first determined that Kira kills using some supernatural method?”

“Well,” the genius detective pondered, absentmindedly placing a thumb upon his lips, “to be quite honest, they do not normally take on such high-profile cases. But now that this so-called shinigami has appeared, I believe their assistance will be indispensable.”

“Ryuuzaki,” Watari said quietly, “I have V on the line.”

“Thank you,” L replied, spinning back to face the monitors just as they simultaneously turned a familiar off-white. A second later, an Old English letter “V” appeared. Removing his thumb from his mouth, L gently pressed a button on his microphone.

“This is L,” he firmly stated. “I require your group's assistance on a case.”

“L?” the indistinct voice of V inquired. It was probably being scrambled, as the team knew L's was, though it did not sound so digital as his signature computer-like voice. “It's been years since you've contacted us. Aren't you still working on the Kira case?”

“Yes, but it has taken a strange turn,” L continued, “and it requires your expertise.”

“But L,” said V hesitantly, “you know we've never taken on a case like this. The worst we've ever dealt with were drug smugglers – we've never worked on a _murder_ case before!”

The task force collectively gasped. What was L thinking, bringing in these so-called detectives that had never even solved a single murder case to chase Kira? Aizawa scowled, questioning for the umpteenth time why he still followed anything the crackpot suggested.

“I have complete faith in your skills,” L affirmed, not even seeming to flinch at V's admission of inexperience. “I need all of you on the first flight you can get to Japan. I'll fully fund your tickets if money is any problem for you.”

“Of course, we can get there, no problem. It's just,” V hesitated again, “you see, we've just wrapped up a case in England, and we happen to have Scrappy along with us. We'll have to take him back home to the States before we can leave for Japan – with that and our basic preparations, it may take us a couple of days.” Matsuda turned from the monitors to face his teammates, and found that their confusion matched his own. Everyone involved in any way with L seemed to have a code name, but _Scrappy_?

“That won't do,” L replied after a moment, frowning again. “The situation here has quickly become much more serious, and may only worsen with time. I need you on a flight today, V.”

“We can't exactly take him with us, L,” V protested.

“Certainly not,” L reluctantly agreed, chewing on his thumb yet again as his thoughts raced. It took him but a moment to find a solution, as evident by his widened eyes. “You say you're in England?”

“Yes, in London. Why?”

“You can drop him off at Wammy's,” L said with a slight smirk. “I'm sure the kids would enjoy his company, and the trip there shouldn't delay you by more than an hour or two. You can return for him after the case has ended.”

“Of course,” V said, somehow sounding more hopeful now, despite the scrambler. “Are you sure that would be okay, though?” Much to everyone's surprise, the smallest of chuckles escaped from L's mouth, barely muffled by his thumb.

“Just tell Roger that you're leaving him under my instructions. He won't mind,” L assured.

“All right, I guess that covers everything, then,” V consented. “We'll drop him off, then we should be on a plane by tonight.”

“Good. I'll have Watari meet you at the Tokyo airport – you can contact him when you have the flight information available.”

“Right.” The monitors returned to their previous news feeds as the connection was terminated. The task force members looked nervously back and forth between each other before quietly sitting back down to work – except, of course, for Matsuda.

“Um,” he ventured, “so, what is Wammy's?” At last, some animation came to Watari's wrinkled features, but before he could brush off Matsuda's intrusive question, L's hand left his mouth and shot up into the air to stop him.

“It's fine,” he said quietly. L slowly turned his chair toward the naïve young man, although he raised his voice to be heard by all. “I suppose it's safe to tell you a bit about it. Even this won't be of any use for figuring out my identity, since all my records there have been long since erased.” Watari nodded, then stepped away with a small frown.

“Wammy's is... a sort of nickname,” he began, “for the orphanage that V and I grew up in.” Another simultaneous gasp erupted from the task force, and even Light had a sort of sympathetic look on his face as he listened intently.

“V could have easily ended up just like me, a mind hiding behind a letter, solving cases in relative safety,” L continued, smirking slightly at the irony of the last bit. “Instead, V decided to take things head on, hinging on an interest in mythology, folklore, and in turn, the supernatural. V moved to the US after leaving the orphanage and formed a small, independent detective team. They work completely in the open, and in fact have won quite a bit of fame in America, though they do occasionally travel to other countries on cases. Despite the fact that they typically take on fairly minor cases, I have worked with them once before,” L paused, resting his thumb on his lip, but not yet chewing it. “Their tactics are... unique, to say the least, but very bold. You’ll find they are much more capable than they seem.”

The task force members silently nodded in understanding. Naturally, though, Matsuda had only picked up on one thing.

“Does that mean,” he said sheepishly, “that you and V are childhood friends, Ryuuzaki?” Aizawa sighed, shaking his head slightly at his friend's simplicity.

L rose slowly from his chair, shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans and keeping the same slouch as he had when he sat. A single corner of his mouth rose in an odd half-smile.

“I suppose you could say that, Matsuda-san,” he admitted softly. The rest of the team was just surprised that the great detective had even bothered answering such a pointless personal question. L ignored their looks, taking a few steps toward Watari. How his benefactor had made his way almost to the door without his noticing, he had no idea. The old man certainly had not lost his touch.

“Watari, if you wouldn't mind,” L addressed him, the familiar twinkle of motivation in his eyes, “some coffee, and a large slice of strawberry cake.”

A rare, wide smile stretched beneath the senior's neatly cropped mustache.

“Right away, Ryuuzaki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes on canon changes so far:
> 
> First of all, the account that Light and Misa give of how they met... isn’t necessarily a lie, so don’t be too quick to dismiss that tidbit as you’re trying to piece the clues together later. ;) 
> 
> Secondly, Soichiro never has that minor heart attack in this story, simply because I needed to use the cafe scene right before that happens as part of the intro, and that whole thing would just screw with the story's focus – hell, this “intro” chapter is long enough as is – hence Soichiro having to confirm L's identity when they go to headquarters. 
> 
> Thirdly, I'll play with the Scooby-Doo characters as much as I want, because neither their families or histories were ever really explained (in the older cartoons anyway, I've not watched the newer shows), with the exception of a random uncle showing up or something. Who's to say one of them can't be an orphan? :P


	2. Throwbacks to the Sixties

L was thoughtfully chewing on a rather large bite of his third donut when the double doors opened behind him. He spun in his wheeled chair to see Light and Mogi enter the main investigation room. The other members of the task force had already set to work half an hour ago, but L supposed he'd have to cut Light some slack – the large, empty building could be quite ominous at first. Mogi had gone to the teenager's room to escort him here, since he didn't yet know his way around.

“Good morning, Yagami-kun,” L said, his tone almost cheerful compared to yesterday's seriousness. He casually licked at the chocolate icing of his donut. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough to be functional,” Light quipped, “but I can't see how anyone could get a good night's sleep knowing you've probably got cameras in every nook and cranny of this place.”

“It seems you'd be accustomed to video surveillance by now,” L muttered as he took another bite.

“Excuse me?” Light gawked.

“Nevermind,” L said dismissively, spinning his chair back around to face his wall of monitors. Light scowled, but dutifully followed Mogi to the large table where the other investigators were working. Two large baskets, one of fruit and one of muffins and bagels, sat in the middle of the table. Light took an orange. He wouldn't say so, but he was thankful for the breakfast. Being suddenly forced to move here yesterday, his things having actually been brought over by Watari and his father that evening, he hadn't had much of an appetite for dinner.

“Ryuuzaki.” The team turned toward the monitors – a fancy W was displayed on the large center screen.

“Yes?” L replied. Despite the interruption, he didn't miss a beat; he quickly popped the last bite of his donut into his mouth and grabbed another from the box on his desk.

“V's plane has come in. We will be arriving at headquarters shortly.”

“Good, thank you,” L said quickly. The center screen blacked out for a moment before again showing the chart that L had been studying. The rest of the team went back to work, except Matsuda, who continued to look in L's direction.

“If the soonest they could get was the red eye flight,” he began tentatively, “maybe you should have just told them to wait for a morning flight instead.” L turned just far enough in his seat to shoot the young officer an incredulous look.

“What I mean is,” Matsuda continued, a bit more assertive now, “that they won't be in any condition to help us if they haven't gotten any sleep.”

“Just shut up, Matsuda,” Aizawa muttered. Matsuda donned an embarrassed, puppy-eyed look and reluctantly returned to reading over the data on his laptop screen. L blankly observed this exchange before taking a bite of his donut and turning back around.

* * *

After some uneventful research into the deeper patterns of yesterday's Kira-related (and shinigami-related) deaths, the garage's surveillance camera finally showed Watari's car pulling in. L, having moved on from donuts to tea by this point, had been absently keeping watch on this camera feed on one of the smaller monitors. He appreciated the help of V's team, but for every minute after Watari had reported in, he grew more and more anxious. Their methods had always been unorthodox and simplistic – how would they fare against Kira? L switched off the camera feed, dropping a seventh sugar cube into his tea before taking a suspiciously nervous-looking sip.

All too soon, L heard the heavy clack of the doors opening behind him. He quickly gulped down the tea he had been unconsciously swishing around his mouth. Maintaining his ever-blank look, he turned slowly in his chair to face the doors. The other investigators were already looking toward them in anticipation.

Watari stepped just inside the doorway; several others could be seen standing in the shadows behind him. Matsuda tried to remain professional, but the excitement of meeting these mysterious detectives had been making him jittery since they'd heard of their arrival in Japan.

“May I present V and company,” the old man said, waving his arm toward the people behind him, “better known as Mystery Inc.”

Four people, two men and two women, stepped from the dim hall and through the wide doorway.

The task force members stood politely to greet them, but immediately forgot their manners and unabashedly stared at their new allies. They were just _kids –_ none of them could be older than 20! But then, L himself was quite young. It was something else, something just plain odd about them. They seemed almost plucked out of 1960's America, as if the plane they took to Japan had really been some kind of time machine. The first man was blonde, tall and athletic; he seemed the most professional of them all, wearing blue slacks and a collared blue-and-white shirt with an orange ascot. The second man was an unkempt brunette with a scruffy little goatee, an oversized green T-shirt and baggy pants – all in all, he looked like an out-of-place hippie. The taller of the women was an attractive redhead, and everything she wore – short dress, shoes, headband, and even hose – was purple, with the exception of a green scarf around her neck. The shorter woman, a brunette, was a bit stouter, with short-cropped hair, thick glasses, and freckles; she wore a bulky orange turtleneck, which nearly hid her red pleated skirt, and outdated orange knee socks with red Mary-Janes.

Mystery Inc. stood nervously, grinning and waving slightly at the wide-eyed group of Japanese policemen. Undisturbed by the awkward silence, L stood and calmly shuffled toward them. He stopped before them, a quirky smile stealing onto his face.

“It is good to see you again, V,” L said softly, breaking the quiet tension at last. The investigators couldn't exactly tell who he was speaking to, but they surmised that the leader of this group had to be the clean-cut blonde man. They were about to be shocked again.

“Do you really have to call me that here?” the shorter woman said sheepishly, hands clasped behind her back, nervously scratching one leg with the foot of the other. Matsuda just couldn't help himself at this point.

“You're V?” he gawked, dumbfounded. Aizawa nudged his shoulder, hoping he would get the idea and shut up.

“Yes,” L answered for her, lightly touching a hand to her shoulder for emphasis. “This is V, alias Velma Dinkley.” The woman blushed slightly and bowed. L moved on.

“This is Freddie Jones,” L continued, motioning toward the blonde man. He gave a wide grin and bowed as well.

“Daphne Blake,” he said, pointing out the other woman, “and Shaggy Rogers.” Daphne followed suit by bowing, while Shaggy just waved.

“Also aliases, of course,” L finished. He looked around at the four of them for a moment before addressing Shaggy. “And where is Scooby? Did he not come with you?”

“Like, he's around,” the mussy-haired youth replied with a smile. As if on cue, the silent Watari moved farther from the doorway.

“Rel!” Out of the darkness of the hallway, a huge brown blur shot into the room and collided with the unsuspecting detective.

Before he had fully realized what was happening, he was on the floor beneath a huge Great Dane. He chuckled ever-so-slightly once he'd gained his breath.

“Hello, Scooby.”

“Ri, Rel!” the huge dog exclaimed, licking the pinned detective's face. L squeezed his eyes shut.

“Okay, okay, enough,” he said calmly. Scooby obliged and hopped off. Velma immediately came forward to help L to his feet.

“Sorry about Scooby,” she explained quickly, “he's been excited about seeing you ever since you called yesterday.” L dusted himself off and patted the black-spotted dog, who was nearly as tall as the perpetually hunched-over genius.

“Most understandable,” he mused. “After all, he is always well-fed when working for me.”

“Reah,” Scooby happily agreed, tongue lolling out of his mouth, “rell-red!” L looked back at his task force again – their shocked faces hadn't lessened at all.

“Everyone, this is Scooby-Doo,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Um,” Matsuda ventured, “can that dog... _talk_?” For once, none of the other investigators tried to shut him up.

“Of course,” L replied, staring blankly at them. “Their team would be quite ineffective if its members could not communicate.” Matsuda just blinked in response, and the others were still speechless, so L decided it was safe to move on. He stepped toward the task force to introduce them. Since he was the only one to have spoken up so far, he began at Matsuda's end of the table.

“This is Matsuda,” L said. Matsuda bowed nervously. L continued around the table, pointing to each person as if playing a round of duck-duck-goose.

“Aizawa, Mogi, Yagami senior, and Yagami junior,” he told them, his tone becoming bored as he came back around to stand beside the newcomers. “You, of course, know Watari. As for myself, within headquarters you will refer to me as Ryuuzaki. In public, please call me Ryuuga.”

“Roo.. raki?” Scooby struggled. L gave a subtle smile, and patted Scooby's head affectionately.

“For your sake, Scooby, 'Roo' will suffice.” Scooby grinned and enthusiastically licked the detective's cheek.

“There is some breakfast here, if you're hungry,” L told the apparent teenagers, motioning towards the still quite full baskets on the table. “Feel free to take a few moments here to rest from your trip before I brief you on the case.” L shuffled back toward his desk by the wall of monitors; perhaps he could finish looking over that chart now.

The kids of Mystery Inc. gratefully grabbed some of the fruits and baked goods from the baskets, most of those, admittedly, going to Shaggy and Scooby. Velma grabbed a bagel and went to join L, eager to get a jump on the case, while the rest stood about the table socializing.

“So, Fred-san, where did you get that outfit?” Light asked, absent-mindedly tossing an apple from hand to hand. “It's pretty snappy, is that some new trend in America?” Fred straightened up, standing proudly.

“Well, actually it's from..,” he trailed off, suddenly forgetting his swelling pride as he saw Daphne talking with Matsuda.

“Daphne, is it?” Matsuda was asking her, blushing slightly. “That's a pretty name.”

“Thank you, Matsuda-san,” she replied cheerily, flipping a lock of hair behind her shoulder.

“But I guess one should expect a pretty girl to have a pretty name...”

“Ahem,” Fred interrupted, placing a possessive hand on the redhead's shoulder. Light looked on, amused as Matsuda blushed further and tried to convince the much stronger-looking man that he hadn't been hitting on Daphne.

The rest of the socializing consisted of Aizawa, Mogi, and the elder Yagami watching with amazement as Shaggy and his strange talking dog claimed two empty seats and proceeded to devour the rest of the breakfast foods.

“So, is there like, any more food around here? We're starvin' after that flight, man,” Shaggy asked, rubbing his stomach for emphasis. The three officers just blinked at each other.

“Sure, the kitchen's on the next floor!” Matsuda exclaimed suddenly, taking the opportunity to get out of his minor plight. “I can take you there if you want!”

“Groovy!” Shaggy exclaimed, enthusiastically hopping up from his chair and following Matsuda out the door. “C'mon, Scoob!” The three dumbfounded detectives continued to watch as the dog jumped up and ran after Shaggy.

Velma chuckled to herself as she watched the two gluttons rush off to the kitchen.

“Those two certainly haven't changed,” L commented. Velma quickly turned back to face him, unaware that he'd even noticed their antics. “In fact, all of you are still exactly the same, even years later...” Velma gave a friendly smile as she looked over her fellow detective, his wide and emotionless eyes disguising his true intelligence, thumb resting on his lips as he sat in thought.

“You haven't changed much either,” she decided, “except that the bags under your eyes have gotten worse. Have you been sleeping at all since the Kira case started?” He now looked her over as well; he knew this was no insult, there was, as always, a kind gleam in her eyes, visible even beneath the thick glasses.

“I get a decent hour or two every few days,” he replied, looking defensively at her, as if his sleep patterns were the most normal in the world, as if _she_ were the strange one for even asking such a thing. She just laughed lightly and rolled her eyes, taking a small bite of her bagel. L turned back to the monitors, closing out all their feeds one by one before closing his laptop. He stood from his chair and carried the computer with him as he shuffled again toward the door with Velma following.

“Freddie, Daphne,” he addressed the couple, now sitting at the table chatting with the remaining members of the task force. “Come with me, I'll brief you on all the details of the case in a private room. The rest of you,” he said to the others, “please continue with your work.”

“What about Shaggy and Scooby?” Daphne asked as she and Fred stood to leave.

“I'm sure Matsuda will fill them in,” L said with an odd smirk.

* * *

“So,” Matsuda uneasily began, “what sorts of cases do you guys work on? Ryuuzaki was pretty vague about it.”

“Man, we always find the scariest things!” Shaggy groaned, quickly swallowing a bite of the enormous sub sandwich he'd constructed a few moments before. “It's always ghosts or monsters or ghosts _of_ monsters...” He paused to take another bite. “And, like, even when they let Scoob and me have a say, we still end up doin' somethin' scary!”

“What do you mean?” the naïve young man asked, entranced as Shaggy finished off the sandwich in just one more huge bite. He imagined the huge amount of food already stuffed into this strangely thin man's stomach would any minute expand like an accordion and burst.

“Like, okay, so this one time,” the scruffy teen started, scanning the table for his next conquest, “the rest of the gang wanted to go to this haunted castle we'd heard about from somebody at the malt shop. But we hadn't had a break from creeps and ghouls in weeks...” Another pause as Shaggy ripped open a bag of chips and started fishing around for dip. “And, like, we just said 'Nooooo way!'”

“Reah, rooooo ray!” Scooby chimed in, his mouth at last unoccupied. He'd just swallowed the last bite of the apple pie he'd found, as well as the full carton of ice cream he'd topped it with and the chocolate syrup and sprinkles he'd added. Matsuda glanced briefly at the huge dog's oddly lean physique, baffled. Did all of L's contacts share his miraculously fast metabolism and seemingly bottomless stomach?

“And for once, they actually agreed with us!” Shaggy continued. “They asked where we wanted to go instead, so, like, we suggested going to this carnival that was in town. And whaddaya know, it turns out there was this lizard creature there, messing with the rides!” At this point, Shaggy gave up on the dip and instead opted for dumping the remainder of his chips, and, like an afterthought, a second bag, into a punch bowl and pouring the dip over them like nachos. “So we ended up getting chased all over by some monster, getting scared out of our wits, and having to solve a mystery anyway!” After looking over the contents of the dining table again, Shaggy got up and headed for the refrigerator.

“And.., um,” Matsuda stuttered, finding it hard to keep his mind on the subject at hand in the midst of all their gorging, “what was this creature, anyway? Some mutant or scientific experiment gone wrong?” His eyes roamed to Scooby again, who was now wolfing down a plate of hamburgers. Matsuda briefly wondered where these out-of-place, and obviously grilled, Western sandwiches had come from, and how Watari had managed to cook all of them unnoticed.

“No way, man,” Shaggy laughed. Slapping down a carton of sour cream on the counter, he moved on from the fridge to the cupboard. “It was just a guy in a costume, like always, trying to scare people away from the carnival.” With a devious smile, he located two cans of refried beans and tossed them onto the counter, now fishing around the drawers near the sink for a can opener. “I think the guy was, like, from some company that used to make carnival rides, but they got sued or somethin' and went outta business.” He suddenly noticed the electric can opener hanging from the cabinet above his head, chuckling at himself for missing it before. With a whirr, he started it up and opened the cans. “So he tried to sabotage the carnival rides made by a certain rival company, thinking he could run them outta business too.”

“So, the monsters and stuff that you guys investigate,” Matsuda contemplated, “are always fakes?”

“Well, there's been a couple exceptions, man,” Shaggy replied, carrying his wares back to the table and dumping everything into his nacho-bowl masterpiece. “We've run into a few real ghosts and stuff before. But then, when that happens, we usually, like, figure out how to get rid of it, but not always where it came from.” Shaggy sat and happily stirred his mixture around with salad forks before digging in. Matsuda fought down a fit of nausea. “So even we don't know as much about the paranormal as you'd think, man, but I guess we still know more than most people.”

“Do you guys really think you can help us, then?” Matsuda asked.

“Man, L, er, uh, Ryuuzaki, that is, hasn't even, like, told us why we're here yet,” Shaggy considered. “Or maybe he's only told Velma...”

“Oh, um, I see,” Matsuda stuttered, “He did say something about briefing all of you, I hope you're not missing out...” The young cop resisted the urge to slap his own forehead, for the sake of keeping some dignity, and instead just ran a nervous hand through his somewhat fluffy hair. He'd never hear the end of it if he'd held up whatever plans Ryuuzaki had for Mystery Inc. by indulging the appetites of Shaggy and Scooby. Watari never seemed to mind bringing food to the investigators while they worked, why hadn't he just suggested that instead of taking them to the kitchen?

“I guess I'll just have to tell you myself,” Matsuda decided, suddenly straightening up with newly mustered confidence. “You know about Kira, right? I don't suppose there's anyone in the world who doesn't.”

“Yeah, man, we've heard all about him,” Shaggy replied, shoveling more of his nacho dish into his mouth. Matsuda noted that there were just a few of his humongous bites left now.

“Reah,” Scooby agreed with a shudder, “Rira's rarier than ronsters!”

“Well,” Matsuda continued, “Things have become more complicated now. Yesterday, a monster appeared that seemed to have Kira's powers. We didn't see it, but people are saying it's a shinigami.”

“Rinigami?” Scooby repeated, putting down the hamburger he was about to bite into, fear becoming obvious in his voice.

“A god of death,” Matsuda clarified. “It was said to have actually flown around, near the ground, and as it went by several of the people around it collapsed and died of heart attacks, although it supposedly had no physical contact with anyone.”

“Rikes!” Scooby cried, jumping instinctively into Shaggy's arms, shivering and teeth chattering.

“Like, they d-d- _died_?” Shaggy asked, voice nearly a whisper and eyes wide. “I thought, like, we'd just be dealing with some Kira fanatic running around in a costume, man! Ya know, tryin' to scare people off Kira's trail or somethin'.” Matsuda wasn't exactly relieved as he noticed that the two had completely forgotten about their feast for over a minute now. Apparently fear was the only thing that could stop their stomachs. “We've done some pretty crazy stunts, sure, but never, like, gone up against a _killer_!” Matsuda plastered a confident grin on his face and gave a short chuckle – he couldn't stand the suddenly tense mood.

“It'll be okay,” the rookie reassured them, although he wasn't so sure of it himself. “I'm sure Ryuuzaki's got something in mind to protect us in case we actually do encounter this thing.”

“Ri rope so,” Scooby whimpered, climbing out of his owner's lap. Matsuda scratched the cowardly Great Dane's ear, although admittedly it seemed odd to him to pet Scooby like a normal dog when he acted so very human. Calmed now, both of them went back to their extensive meal.

Matsuda's assumption was soon proven wrong – fear hadn't curbed their appetites: if anything, it had enhanced them. Within minutes they had both regained their gluttonous rhythm, perhaps even surpassing their previous speed.

That is, until an apple flew off the table.

* * *

“So, you think that this Misa girl is an accomplice, Ryuuzaki-kun?”

“The possibility is only two percent at best, Velma- _chan_ ,” L replied, one corner of his mouth twitching slightly with amusement. “And you needn't apply honorifics to my alias. Manners are quite wasted on me.” The freckled girl's eyes immediately shot down to the table as she tried to hide her embarrassment.

“Sorry, Ryuuzaki,” she mumbled.

“Yagami's relationship with Amane,” L continued unfazed, idly stabbing a chunk of melon with his fork, “is obviously no more than a front. Whether he, as Kira, is using her as an accomplice or, as Light, is simply stringing her along for sexual purposes, cannot be determined yet. But as of now, he is my only viable Kira suspect, so we must examine all his actions and social relationships in that light.” Finally at a pause, he popped the half-mutilated melon into his mouth.

“And this particular relationship,” Daphne pondered, “is the most suspicious thing he's got going right now, and even though it may be totally unrelated to the Kira case, we have no choice but to examine it from all angles.”

“Precisely,” L agreed, quickly downing another square of melon, now forgoing the use of his tiny fork. Fred had been sitting quietly through most of the briefing, absorbing all the information, but suddenly he sat up straight and decidedly gulped down the last of his black coffee. Ignoring his movement, L calmly took another piece of melon between two fingers.

“Misa,” Fred exclaimed, a wild twinkle in his blue eyes, “could be a _second_ Kira!”

The only sound in the room was the soft splat of melon falling to the floor. Velma and Daphne stared blankly at their long-time companion; L was still, eyes wide and unfocused, but nevertheless looking straight ahead.

“Second... Kira..,” L slowly repeated, as if this were the most horrifying thought to ever cross his mind.

“Yeah!” Fred continued. “Misa somehow can kill just like Kira, except she doesn't seem to need a name. She goes out in the shinigami costume and kills random people just to scare everyone off the real Kira's trail.”

“A Kira that only needs a face..,” L muttered, the hand which formerly held a piece of melon still hanging suspended in the air.

“We don't even know what Kira's killing method is,” Velma argued. “Who's to say that it would even be possible to spread this... this _power_ of his? Much less expand it by getting rid of the need to know people's names?”

“Unless,” Daphne said uncertainly, “it's a _real_ shinigami. An actual death god surely wouldn't require things like that in order to kill people.”

“Really, Daphne, there's no such thing as shinigami,” Velma asserted. “Even if we were to say that there are mythological creatures that really exist in the world, shinigami wouldn't be among those creatures, since they're not a part of mythology at all!”

“What do you mean, Velma?” Fred asked.

“Shinigami, or gods of death, only appeared in Japanese legend during the Meiji era. They were just adapted from the idea of the Grim Reaper, brought to Japan by the Europeans that traveled here for trade. Besides, there are no specific legends about them; they are just a broad, general idea. Even now there are contradictory ideas of their nature – some people believe that they come to Earth to kill people, others think that they are merely psychopomps, spirits who guide the souls of the dead to the afterlife.” She paused briefly and adjusted her glasses. “And nowadays, shinigami are actually more prominent in pop culture than with paranormal study – they're used all the time in movies, manga, and anime,” Velma explained proudly. L blinked, his trance breaking as he considered her words.

“So it would make sense, if they're well-known in popular culture, for Kira, his accomplice, or even a fanatical Kira supporter to use the shinigami idea both to scare the public and present a supernatural basis for Kira,” L reasoned.

“Well,” Fred confidently said, “just like Kira's killing method, we'll find out the reason for this shinigami act when we catch the culprit!” The girls agreed full-heartedly to Fred's enthusiastic declaration, while L gave a nearly imperceptible smile. He certainly wouldn't admit it, but he was suddenly very grateful to have the optimistic teens' help.

Suddenly, L's laptop screen lit up a bright white, a familiar W appearing in the center.

“Ryuuzaki!” an urgent voice exclaimed.

“Watari, what's wrong?” L asked quickly, staring intently at the screen as if he actually expected to see the old man's face there.

“Matsuda, Shaggy, and Scooby have witnessed a paranormal event in the kitchen. They say an apple flew off the table and appeared to be _eaten_ in midair,” Watari replied, his voice slightly wavering. L's pupils suddenly dilated, leaving just a small ring of white in his eyes. His knuckles went white as he unconsciously tightened his grip on his bent knees.

“Shini... gami..,” he whispered. Velma, sitting beside him at the long table, shivered at his voice. She'd never seen him so... _frightened_.

“But... that's not all,” Watari continued, his voice becoming weaker. “There's also the matter of the food...”

“There was more than just the apple?” L questioned, quickly gathering back his composure. He brought a thumb to his mouth and lightly began to chew.

“No, no, nothing to do with that,” Watari replied. “It's about Shaggy and Scooby. They've... eaten all of the food. The entire _headquarters_ is out of food.”

L stared blankly at the screen, teeth firmly locked on his thumb, not moving a muscle even as the thin line of blood began to trickle toward his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, in my mind, Shaggy's a lot more perceptive and intelligent than he seems. He can't just be in Mystery Inc. for comic relief.. right? :P
> 
> FYI, the building L constructed for the investigation shouldn't exist yet in the timeline, but I've changed that for the purposes of this story. Easier than them moving into it in the middle of the story, and it will become important later on.


	3. Let's Split Up, Gang!

“C'mon, you guys, it was probably on a wire or something, rigged up just to scare you,” Fred argued, a lightly amused look on his face.

“Like, nooooo way! I'm telling you, it floated up off the table and was _eaten_ , man!” Shaggy protested. “It, like, stopped in midair, there were two or three big bites, and then the core disappeared!”

“Reah!” Scooby chimed in, still shaking with fear at Shaggy's side, “Risappeared!”

“It's true!” Matsuda agreed. “There was nothing left of it! How could it just disappear, let alone be bitten into, if it was just some basic parlor trick?”

The remaining members of Mystery Inc. and the task force stood in a semicircle in the main investigation room, listening to the continued testimonies of the two frightened men and talking dog seated before them, trying not to let the incredulous glint of their eyes spread to the rest of their faces. These were coworkers, friends, and above all, fellow detectives, not some everyday eyewitnesses off the street; still, they were finding it extremely hard to believe them.

L, as usual, kept his expression blank as the others argued on around him. No one stood close enough to hear it, but beneath the emotionless facade, the genius's heart was pounding mercilessly. Normally, he held enough control over his own feelings that he could trick them into compliance with his unaffected exterior, as if convincing himself, just as he convinced those around him, that he was calm, uncaring, even confident to some extent. But not now. He had told the rest of the team up front that he was childish – that he was immature and hated losing – but that was hardly the half of it.

He was afraid. L, Erald Coil, Deneuve, Ryuuzaki, Ryuuga Hideki, and so many other names that he himself had forgotten some over the years, was actually _afraid_. And afraid of some stupid superstitious nonsense, at that.

He had felt it in the briefing room, discussing shinigami with Fred, Daphne, and Velma, but then it had been just an idea to throw around. A frightening possibility, yes, but that's _all_ it was. Now, though, it seemed a reality, although of course he would never consent to that without considering all other possible explanations. Still, with all the other oddities this case had revealed, it seemed almost obvious that it must be something undiscovered and unknown – a shinigami? – that had eaten that apple in the kitchen.

The fear of such a revelation scoured away the knowledge, the experience, the hard realism of his years until he felt he had been reduced to a mere child again. A stupid, scared child, cowering beneath a blanket out of some ridiculous fear of the darker corners of his room. Who knew what might be lurking in that closet, behind the window curtains, or even under the bed itself? Nothing in daylight, but the night and the dark would just laugh and mock his attempts at logic. There was no logic here in the darkness. The shadows formed monsters and ghouls upon his walls – were they not just stacks of books, discarded clothes, harmless bedposts in daylight? Empty space, nothingness, now come to life to taunt him as he grasped desperately for his precious reason, the rationality that he already knew to be lost in the night.

Yes, a child. A man outside, standing, slouching, hands secretly gripping at the inner fabric of his jeans pockets as he looked upon his fellow investigators with absolute calm and neutrality, while inside him crouched that child, fearful of the unknown, wishing as he only did at night that he had a roommate, that he hadn't requested solitude in the already lonely house. He had to snap himself out of this.

“ _Could_ it be,” L suddenly spoke up, “a real shinigami?” Quiet as his voice was, everyone stopped talking instantly to hear his input; he found himself relieved by the slight boost of confidence their attention gave him.

Funny how the deep, superstitious fear gripping his heart was so easily hidden from all of them, while just minutes ago, in the briefing room, the small fright he got from a vague idea had shown quite obviously.

But then, nothing that managed to escape the labyrinth that was L's mind ever came out in the same state as it had gone in.

“Really, Ryuuzaki, that's ridiculous and you know it,” Light scoffed, arms crossed over his chest in an oddly defensive pose, though L was sure it didn't seem that way to anyone else.

“Why not a shinigami, Yagami-kun?” he countered, disentangling the long fingers of his right hand from his pocket and lifting his thumb back into its rightful place at his mouth. “As in the messages I showed you yesterday at the cafe, Kira has informed me that shinigami love to eat apples.” A smart glint shined in Light's eyes.

“Is that so?” he challenged with an arrogant tone. “Because you yourself showed me that, with the fourth message included, what Kira actually told you was 'L, do you know love apples?' and 'Shinigami have red hands.' So are you saying now that my initial analysis of the messages was correct after all?”

“It was, yes,” L conceded, only slightly disappointed at having to reveal another of his methods. “But that is only because the fourth message was a forgery made solely for the benefit of my interrogation.” Light sported what likely was a feigned look of shock at L's admission.

“And when were you planning to tell me? Or do you prefer keeping your own investigators in the dark?”

“Until this apple incident, the message itself did not seem important enough that I should inform you of the lie,” L said simply, an extremely subtle but quite pleased look creeping its way into his wide, staring eyes. Up another one percent for the arrogance...

“You know, maybe the reason you haven't been able to gather any real evidence on Kira,” Velma pondered aloud, “is because there's none to be found in the first place. Maybe Kira has no psychic powers or supernatural weapons, but is really just a human who has somehow allied himself with a shinigami.” She lowered her eyes to the ground as the group's collective attention was drawn to her. “That's if, of course, we are willing to accept the existence of such things in the first place,” she muttered.

“Then what about the shinigami in Aoyama? It certainly wasn't invisible,” Daphne added.

“A distraction!” Fred enthusiastically chimed in. “A guy in a costume, like I said before, trying to scare everyone off Kira's trail somehow.”

“By opening up our minds once again to the idea of shinigami?” L considered, idly nipping at his thumbnail. “That would seem rather unwise, if there is, in fact, a _real_ shinigami carrying out Kira's murders for him. Of course, the whole idea of Kira causing such theatrics in the first place is itself outlandish, considering that, from his previous actions, I have deduced that he must be highly intelligent.”

“A deliberate ruse?” Velma ventured. “Maybe this whole shinigami business really is just a big distraction to throw a kink into the investigation. It doesn't make sense in _any_ light, and maybe that's the whole point of it.”

“That just killed your entire theory, then,” Aizawa suddenly mumbled. Matsuda shot him a look of disdain, thinking he was just letting his short temper get the best of him. L, however, stopped chewing his nail to study the determined face beneath the afro.

“Please elaborate, Aizawa-san,” L said. Aizawa looked at him, puzzled and even surprised that the alleged world's best detective wanted his opinion, even though they seemed to be constantly at odds over their respective theories and methods.

“If the shinigami incident in Aoyama was just a ruse, then the theory that Kira is killing by proxy through a real one is completely baseless. With a shinigami doing the killing for him, there'd be no evidence to gather in the first place. No reason to create a ruse, or, for that matter, to have targeted those investigating him in the past,” Aizawa explained.

“Indeed,” L agreed softly, “if there is no evidence to be found, many of Kira's actions thus far would seem pointless and irrelevant to his goals.” Aizawa looked blatantly dumbfounded; he and L actually _agreed_ on something?

“If that's the case, what are we doing standing around talking?” Daphne piped up, her arms sweeping about emphatically. “We should be out looking for clues!”

“When it comes to Kira, all we can do is follow what minor leads we have with reasoning.” The group suddenly turned all at once to face Chief Yagami, who all along had been sitting silently at the main table. He looked them all over with a grave expression, shuffling papers in his strong, weathered hands. They all patiently waited for him to continue.

“Before Light was brought in to join our team yesterday,” he began, briefly glancing at his son before returning his gaze to the papers, “we combed over the scene at Aoyama. As with all else related to Kira, we found no physical evidence.”

Velma watched the older man carefully. L had told them at the briefing a bit about the task force members, but she still was curious about Yagami. It amazed her that he'd stuck with this investigation even when his own son became the main suspect, but looking at him now, she felt she could almost understand. His face was aged, but he held himself like a younger man – the aging that was so apparent in his features must have come about rather recently, probably due to this very case. Despite this, he did not look frail or tired, but strong and determined. Even as a somewhat forlorn look hovered in his eyes, no doubt in concern for his son, he didn't look like he would even consider backing down. He didn't act at all resistant to L or his theories, either, even though the genius was pursuing Light almost exclusively at this point. Had L not told them that Yagami vehemently agreed to having cameras and bugs put in his house, forsaking all dignity and privacy, if only to clear his family's name? That even when suspicion came clearly upon his own son, he did not put up a fight, but instead supported L's admittedly extreme methods more than any of the other investigators?

“Just as before,” he concluded, “all we can do is sift through the data, try to find connections, and see what Ryuuzaki can deduce from there.”

Velma hadn't so much as spoken one word to him, and all she knew of him came from a third party's description and her own idle observations, but she had begun to harbor a great respect for the man.

“Well, I for one refuse to believe that!” Fred exclaimed, stepping forward with his chest defiantly puffed out. “We were called here for a reason, and we're not going to sit around staring at computers and stacks of paper all day! We're going to go out and _catch_ that monster!”

“Yeah!” Matsuda cried out, pumping his fist in the air excitedly. Aizawa merely scowled, but Matsuda got the hint and hushed.

“And just how do you plan to do that?” the tall detective quipped at Fred, the familiar frustrated anger aglow on his face. “You heard the chief, there's no evidence, no trail to follow. Are you just going to wander around Tokyo until you run into a shinigami?” Fred hesitated, trying his best not to let doubt seep into his features.

“Actually, Aizawa-san,” L answered for him, “that's not an entirely bad idea.” Aizawa gaped at him, his eyes demanding some explanation for this ridiculous notion. L calmly took a momentary pause, reaching into his back pocket. “This shinigami act may, in fact, become a daily occurrence, just like Kira's usual killings. Criminals are one thing, but this creature attacks random bystanders; if these actions _do_ continue, it will most certainly cause a panic.”

“So what, we wait for it to appear again and look for a pattern?” Aizawa countered. “And how many times do you think its attacks will have to be repeated before that pattern emerges? Knowing Kira, that widespread panic will occur long before he leaves us any solid leads on this.” L wasn't even looking at him, too concentrated on the broken sugar cubes he was digging out of his pocket.

“We will simply have to predict its moves and hope that our predictions eventually prove to be correct,” L said, picking lint off one of the sugar cubes before popping it into his mouth. “What do we know about the circumstances of yesterday's incident?” Aizawa seethed; how could they hope to come up with any sort of behavior pattern by looking at a one-time event like this?

“Kira's judgments were sparse until approximately 11:30 am,” Mogi suddenly spoke up, standing straight and serious, “when they suddenly became much more concentrated. About 12:00 pm, the shinigami appeared in Aoyama, flew around the center of the pedestrian shopping mall, and allegedly caused the twelve deaths which occurred there, all of which were determined to be due to heart attacks. During this time, Kira's usual judgments became slightly more sparse. By 12:20 pm, the shinigami was gone, allegedly flying away toward the south. From then until approximately 1:00 pm, Kira's killings picked up again. Afterwards, and for the rest of the day, the judgments were sparse and spread out as per usual.” Mogi relaxed slightly. L ate another sugar cube.

“Interesting,” L pondered. He turned slightly to look at Light, who had been silently observing from his spot near the double doors of the main room. “Was it not close to 1:00 when Amane arrived at the cafe yesterday, Yagami-kun?”

“I suppose, she did say that the shinigami incident had occurred about an hour before,” Light said, “but what does that have to do with all this?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” L quickly replied, picking another ball of lint off his precious sugar as he shot the teen his usual innocent, wide-eyed look. “It is also strange, of course, that the incident in the kitchen occurred the very morning after your arrival here.” Light probably didn't think his slight scowl was showing, but L noticed it easily enough. Up by two percent...

“But,” L said suddenly, turning to Mogi, “that wasn't quite what I was asking. What of the actual place where the shinigami appeared?”

“Ah, well,” he started, slightly bewildered but standing confidently straight again regardless, “Aoyama is a popular area for shopping, especially with teenagers and college-age youths. The exact place it appeared was in the center of the pedestrian area, a circular spot with benches and tables; a popular outdoor gathering place, in short.”

“I see,” L said, licking the last bits of sugar off his fingers. “The shinigami's next target may be a similar place. If we are to go out and attempt to witness another such occurrence today, we should go to another popular youth destination with an established pedestrian area.”

“Since we're banking on educated guesses alone,” Velma added, “we should probably try more than one place.”

“Right,” Fred interjected, “let's come up with a few areas to search, then we'll all split up and look for clues!”

“We will limit ourselves to _two_ areas,” L corrected him. “We do not have enough people for more than two groups.”

“What do you mean?” Matsuda asked incredulously. “Our team's doubled in size since yesterday, Ryuuzaki!”

“For safety reasons, there should be at least three people to each group,” L explained, pulling his thumb to his mouth again. “Also, since we are targeting popular youth areas, only those who can pass as teenagers should go. That leaves us with just seven people.” He chewed his thumb, watching with some amusement as Matsuda glanced around the group, subtly trying to calculate this himself.

“Since we can only check out two places, we should try Harajuku and Shibuya's shopping district,” Light suggested. “Those are the most popular besides Aoyama.”

“Agreed,” said L, chewing more vigorously at his thumb, now sorely missing his sweets. “Since those areas are fairly close together, we should also be able to regroup easily in case the shinigami actually appears.”

“We can also send someone to Aoyama, just in case anything else happens there,” Velma added. “After yesterday, no one would question one or two policemen hanging around.”

“All right, we have a plan then.” Fred impatiently declared, glancing at his watch. “We've only got an hour or so until noon, so let's get going, gang!”

Instinctively, L reached for the cell phone in his left back pocket – thankfully, today he'd remembered not to put it in the same pocket as his emergency sugar stash – when the realization suddenly struck him.

“We have one problem,” he said somewhat dejectedly, “Watari is still out shopping to restock our food supply. It may be nightfall before he returns.” L shot a brief accusing glare at Shaggy and Scooby, who were still sitting silently. He couldn't tell if their silence now was out of guilt or if the conversation had simply been over their heads all along.

“Arriving in such places in a Rolls Royce wouldn't exactly be low profile anyway, you know,” Velma said with a chuckle.

“We have no other transport except police cars,” L argued. “Even unmarked, several identical black cars would be equally conspicuous.”

“No problem!” Fred said with an excited grin. “We'll just take the Mystery Machine!”

Even as the other members of the task force tried to cover their disbelief and confusion out of sheer politeness, Light blatantly gawked at the blond teen.

“The mystery... _what_?”

* * *

Not even L himself knew when or how it had come to be here. No one had noticed its arrival on the security feed. Nevertheless, here it was, parked just a few feet away, impossible to miss as the seven people and one dog stepped out of the freight elevator.

The Mystery Machine, in all its psychedelic glory: all neon green and pastel blue, covered in cheery orange flowers (even on the hubcaps), with the English words “The Mystery Machine” proudly emblazoned on the side in a bubbly 60's style font. The harsh florescent light strips, sparse throughout the majority of the dim underground garage, were more concentrated near the elevators, and, combined with the bright colors of the van, created a glaring green glow all around.

“This,” L said, finally breaking the shocked silence, “is certainly not inconspicuous.”

“We're going into highly fashionable areas of Tokyo!” Daphne beamed, motioning toward Mystery Inc's prized vehicle. “We'll stand out less in this than we would in dark, unmarked cars!”

“You... have to be kidding,” Matsuda muttered.

“Actually, she has a point,” Light commented, walking up for a closer inspection of the old Volkswagen. “Hiding in plain sight, as it were, no one would ever suspect that we were a bunch of investigators on the Kira case.”

“Besides,” Fred said, walking up proudly to the back of the van, “I doubt any of the police cars are as well equipped!” L, Light, and Matsuda curiously approached as Fred swung open the back doors.

It was now apparent why the van only had windows on the doors. Behind the single bench seat, from floor to roof, the walls were covered with a solid mass of computer equipment – monitors, microphones, and more buttons and lights than they could count. Headsets hung near the doors in the only strip of space where the walls themselves were visible, and even here were several large switches and controls. A small satellite dish hung upside down from a makeshift door on the roof, which no doubt could be flipped up to sit atop the van. Every available bit of space was occupied by some gizmo or other.

“Wow!” Matsuda gasped. “What _is_ all this stuff?”

“Radar, radio transmitters, bugging devices, phone interceptors, basic video surveillance..,” L listed, climbing into the van to look around. “You've updated a lot since I last saw it, Freddie.”

“You know me,” the blond said with a grin, “I'm always looking for new toys.”

“Indeed,” the detective blandly replied, rummaging around near the bench seat. Suddenly, the passenger door opened up and Velma popped her head inside.

“If you're looking for that case Watari had,” she whispered, watching with an amused grin as the genius delicately picked up an empty box of Scooby Snacks, “he said he would stash it under the driver's seat.”

“Ah, thank you,” said L, carefully placing the box back where he'd found it. He squatted on the floor, his long fingers searching beneath the seat before finally pulling out a thin brown briefcase.

“Where'd that come from?” Fred wondered as L shuffled toward the back of the van again.

“Knowing the way you all work, I asked Watari to have these prepared for your arrival,” L said, perching precariously by the open door in his usual crouch. He opened the case and sat it on the floor of the van so everyone else could see.

“Are these, like, masks?” Shaggy ventured, stepping forward and plucking a piece of wiggling rubber from the briefcase.

“Yes,” L answered him, although addressing the whole group rather than Shaggy alone. “I knew you'd want to pursue the shinigami outright, and since, from the incident yesterday, it seems to need only a brief glance of someone's face in order to kill, I had to take some precaution.” He took out a mask as well, holding it carefully in front of him with the index fingers and thumbs of both hands, scrutinizing it with his wide black eyes. Forsaking his usual blank expression, for a moment L donned a look of actual surprise and disbelief.

“Watari's got some sense of humor, man,” Shaggy mumbled, his own face nearly mirroring L's as he waited to hear his opinion.

“What's the matter with them?” Daphne wondered. Like the others, she couldn't see the masks from the way the two men were holding them.

“Nothing, it is just that,” L began slowly, “I expected something more nondescript.” He paused for a moment, turning the mask around so the rest of the group could see. “Certainly not these... caricatures.”

Everyone collectively gasped in shock, and perhaps disgust, at L's mask. Some twisted, creepy version of what a child's drawing of L might look like – bugged-out eyes, a plump, rounded face, and hair made of bulky, play-dough-like clumps – stared eerily back at them.

“Like, the rest are no better,” Shaggy said, turning around the mask he held, which happened to be of Light. Its style was a close copy of L's, other than the odd smirk of the mouth, and the coloration, which was accurate to Light's appearance with just one exception.

The eyes were an undeniably bloody shade of red.

* * *

“Alright, everyone ready?” Fred asked, adjusting the rear-view mirror yet again.

“Yes,” L said impatiently. “Let's go, we are losing time.”

The van slowly lurched backwards out of the parking spot, paused as Fred carefully shifted gears, then suddenly zoomed forward.

In the front bench seat, the _only_ seat, were Fred, Daphne, and Velma. Kindly allowing the women these safer positions, the rest had opted to sit in the back of the van, on the floor, where there were no defined seating areas or restraints of any kind. Shaggy and Scooby were accustomed to this, so the sudden movement didn't faze them as they lounged comfortably against the back doors. Matsuda was trying desperately to hold onto the smooth edges of the computer console beside him, looking foolish and flailing about when Fred hit the gas, but managing to stay upright nevertheless. Light was tensed, bracing himself only with his arms, which he held out to his sides with his palms on the floor. He sat cross-legged in an attempt to keep up his dignity, so his arms were his only options for balance.

L, however, was fully confident that he could maintain his usual sitting position. He could not afford to lose his deductive powers, after all; even during the short trip through town, he had a multitude of theories and plans to consider. His legs, though well-hidden by his baggy jeans, were strong and muscular from his years spent practicing South American martial arts. He had no trouble keeping his position in the seat of Watari's car, and never wore a seat belt there, so why not in the floor of a van?

The Mystery Machine emerged from the garage and took a sharp right turn onto the street. L immediately toppled over and slid across the floor into the console nearest to Light.

“You should know better than to sit like that in a moving vehicle!” Light chastised, smirking and not bothering to hold back his chuckles.

“Ron't raugh!” Scooby barked, an oddly serious expression playing on his rather cartoonish features. Light hushed up, perhaps more because the notion of a talking dog still freaked him out a little than because of the command itself.

“Are you all right, Ryuuzaki?” Matsuda asked, letting go of his tentative grip on the opposite console. He crawled over to L, reaching out a hand to help him up, but the detective batted him away. As the van came to a brief stop, L quickly stood and scurried back across the floor. He settled back into his crouched position, wedging himself between a console and the back of the bench.

This worked out well for about five minutes, at which point Fred took another hard right and sent the world's most brilliant mind crashing face-first into the floor. Again.

Velma leaned over the back of the seat as L muttered English curses into the floorboard.

“Ryuuzaki,” she said, a sympathetic smile on her face, “the next time we come to a stop, why don't you just come up here with us? I'm sure we can squeeze you in.”

L only groaned angrily in response, rolling onto his back and brushing dirt off his pale cheek. Velma chuckled good-naturedly and turned back toward the front, rolling her eyes at L's eccentric sense of pride.

However, after sitting up and being knocked over for the third time, L didn't hesitate to climb over the bench and settle in beside the brunette. She and Daphne wordlessly scooted over to accommodate him; the subtle hints of gratitude in his deep black eyes were their only thanks.

L had certainly never liked prolonged physical contact, but he had little choice here. The bench in the old van was certainly large enough for the four of them, even with L's legs bent up on the seat, but there was no escaping the contact. He sat tensely, partially leaning against the door, but he couldn't avoid his arm touching Velma's shoulder, or his leg brushing against her during even the slightest turns. He wriggled his toes nervously, but this was really the only evidence of his discomfort. His tensed muscles were, after all, necessary to his balance; there was no need for anyone to draw any other conclusions about that.

A couple of quiet minutes of uninterrupted thought managed to calm him, and slowly his muscles began to relax. Perhaps it wasn't so bad like this. Velma was not a _real_ friend, he supposed, but was admittedly the closest thing to a friend that L had ever had. This was certainly more tolerable than sitting closely to a stranger, or to someone who annoyed him, at any rate. They would arrive at their destination in no more than 12 or 13 minutes, judging by the distance and the amount of traffic. Yes, he decided, he could tolerate this contact for that long.

He looked down the bench to Fred and Daphne. Neither of them showed any signs of discomfort with the seating arrangement, and it did not seem to affect the quality of Fred's driving, but then, L had not really expected the two of them to complain about having to sit closer together. He looked down at Velma, who sat a good five inches lower than himself. She held her hands in her lap, arms perfectly still as her stubby fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. A nervous habit, perhaps? L was wondering if he should lean more towards the door to give her room when she noticed his gaze. Surprising him, she looked up at him not with discomfort or annoyance, as did most people upon realizing that L's wide eyes were upon them, but with kindness. Then she smiled, a subtle, friendly smile that seemed somehow reassuring. L's eyes widened by just a hair, and one corner of his mouth lifted in an unsure attempt to return the sentiment. It really wasn't so bad...

That is, until L's still-wiggling toes accidentally brushed against Velma's bare thigh.

L tensed up all over again, quickly turning to face the window, retracting his toes back and curling them up until they were almost completely underneath his feet, digging the nails into the vinyl seat. That was it, he was definitely uncomfortable here.

“Freddie,” he said suddenly, hating now the silence he'd rejoiced in just moments ago, “turn on the radio. It is getting closer to noon, and we should monitor the news.”

“Oh, okay,” Fred replied, slightly startled at the quiet being broken. He obediently flipped a dial, and music began to blare out of the speakers dotted along the van's roof.

_Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you?  
We got some work to do now!_

“What the..,” Light mumbled, looking toward Shaggy and Scooby in a sort of disgusted amazement.

_Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you?  
We need some help from you now!_

“The _dog_ has a _theme song_?!” the boy demanded, openly pointing at the Great Dane as Fred scrambled to eject the cassette.

“Yagami-kun!” L shouted, quickly twisting his body backwards to face Light, his voice alone shocking him into compliance. “Scooby is a valued member of Mystery Inc. Please show some respect!”

“Um,” the teen stammered, turning toward the dog while keeping a wary eye on the increasingly unpredictable genius, “I'm... sorry about that, Scooby-san.”

“Rat's okay!” Scooby replied, shooting L a toothy grin as Fred finally found a news station on the radio. L turned back around as everyone fell silent again. The announcer was reviewing the day's top stories, but there was nothing relevant to the case.

“By the way, Fred-san,” Light said as the announcer moved on to weather, “I meant to ask you, how did you get this... vehicle of yours to Japan, anyway?”

“This is not the first time they have brought the Mystery Machine along on an overseas case, Yagami-kun,” L answered for him, not bothering to face him this time. As usual, the detective's cryptic response didn't quite answer his question. Not wanting to risk provoking L's temper again, though, Light decided to drop the subject.

* * *

“Everyone has their masks?” L asked, gingerly pulling one rubber edge from beneath his white shirt. The rest nodded, lightly patting the shirts or pockets that hid their own masks as they stood on the sidewalk next to the Mystery Machine.

“Good,” said L, tucking his mask back into its hiding place. “Now, Freddie, Daphne, and Velma will accompany me to Shibuya. Shaggy, Scooby, Matsuda, and Light will go to Harajuku.”

“Ryuuzaki,” Velma whispered harshly, tugging at his long sleeve, “you're letting Light go with _them_?”

“Please trust my judgment, Velma,” L said quickly, meeting her brown eyes for just a moment. She nodded curtly and let go. L turned back to face the Harajuku group.

“Matsuda-san, if anything should happen,” he instructed, “please use the distress signal in your belt buckle.”

“Right!” Matsuda exclaimed, saluting L like an obedient soldier. L just stared blankly at the naïve cop, and slowly blinked before turning to Light.

“Yagami-kun, I assume you know your way around?”

“Yes, I know the area quite well, actually,” Light confidently answered.

“Good, I am counting on you to lead the group and find the most suitable areas to patrol,” L told him, his face belying no ulterior motives, but Velma knew he must have a much better reason for letting his prime suspect out of his sight. No matter how small the probability that he was Kira, L personally seemed to have no doubts about Light; besides, it wasn't like him to allow a suspect such freedom. Even from the short amount of time they'd spent working together in the past, she knew that he wasn't one to give up on a theory or a lead, no matter how trivial it might seem to everyone else.

“Are we absolutely clear on the plan, then?” L demanded, looking briefly at each and every member of the group as they nodded in agreement. Shaggy and Scooby looked a bit scared, as usual, and Matsuda was looking nervous, trying to cover by puffing his chest out and standing straight, but otherwise there seemed to be no doubt present.

L looked lastly at Fred, and subtly nodded his head at the blond as he handed him the proverbial floor. Fred grinned enthusiastically and stepped forward into the middle of the group.

“Let's split up, gang!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, L's mask is like the one Near wore at the end of the series! And the others are modeled after it – I just couldn't resist. Embrace the creepiness! :)
> 
> A note on POV:  
> This story mostly revolves around L, though it will delve into other characters' heads from time to time. Basically it's the opposite of canon, which focused mostly on Light and briefly shifted onto others when the need arose – this is gonna be the same way, just with L instead of Light. The perspective generally won't shift to Light for more than a moment. He's supposed to be a villain, ya know. Have you ever seen a Scooby-Doo episode that followed the monster's POV? Didn't think so. :P
> 
> Naming conventions:  
> As far as honorifics go, this follows canon rules for the DN characters. Ryuuzaki is never addressed with an honorific by anyone. L addresses the task force members with -san and mockingly refers to Light with -kun to signify their fake friendship thingie. Weird as it sounds to do it, everyone refers to the Scooby characters respectfully with -san, except L. He doesn't use any honorifics for them, but out of familiarity, not rudeness (granted, L is rude by default). Plus, he's accustomed to speaking English with them, so honorifics probably just seem odd.
> 
> Language barriers (and lack thereof):  
> Mystery Inc. can indeed speak Japanese (though pronunciation is a barrier for Scooby, hence why he only speaks in short bursts). Like all Wammy kids seem to (in fanon anyway), Velma knows just about every language. Her encyclopedia-quoting moments in the show often include her explaining some foreign term, so I think it's fitting for her. And I'm gonna say that the others have all studied several of the more prevalent world languages since Mystery Inc. was formed, since they do travel to other countries on the show and never seem to have any communication issues.. It's important for a detective team to be versatile, ne? :P


End file.
